


The Monster

by Anonymous



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Rape, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He had always been a monster.Sephiroth inflicts trauma on a young cadet and faces him again years later.Canon Compliant-Divergent AU.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104
Collections: Anonymous





	The Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Implied rape, abuse aftermath, canonical character death.

Sephiroth threaded his hand through the back of soft blond hair.

The boy trembled beneath him.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

His ungloved hands looped around the boy’s waist, deftly undoing buttons and zippers. Cloud whimpered as he did so.

He yanked down the standard uniform pants and the belt clinked on the floor of his office. Sephiroth loomed over the smaller figure, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush the boy’s ear as he spoke.

“You wanted to be strong, didn’t you?”

“Yes… sir… but…” Cloud’s voice was ragged with fright.

“You’ll become stronger through suffering,” he replied with a cruel smile.

The boy flinched away from him, digging his waist into the edge of Sephiroth’s desk. A false hope of getting away, of getting as far from him as possible.

He could have taken a different approach. He could have taken it slowly, gained the boy’s trust, seduced him with promises. He could have made Cloud give to him willingly what he wanted to take from him.

But something about the cadet - his bright, blue eyes, wide with adoration, and now with fear - his shy stammers and blushes blooming across his soft skin - made him a thing that Sephiroth wanted to crush and watch unravel. A thing to own and control and mark as his, forever.

He could feel Cloud becoming hot with shame, as his hands glided underneath clothing. In response to the squirming, he roughly pressed down on the spot between the boy’s shoulder blades.

Cloud stilled. He could crush the lungs, if he liked, of this weak and mako-less body. Instead, Sephiroth slid his fingers upward to cradle the boy’s cheek. Such a small, insignificant thing he was.

“Please let me go,” Cloud asked quietly.

Sephiroth relished the powerlessness in Cloud’s voice. Already, he heard the resignation; any initial defiance melted away. He had carved away at the layers of him, carved away the idolatry and determination and trust and dreams until all that remained was fear.

“Be a good boy for me, and I will let you go afterwards.” His soothing tone contrasted sharply with his intentions.

Cloud clenched his eyes shut. His body went slack.

“Good boy. Just let me in.”

He would always live in his memories afterwards. Cloud would never escape him.

—

Cloud had taken to avoiding him in the subsequent years. He tried to disappear into a mass of obscured, helmet-covered faces. It had only ever happened once, but Sephiroth knew that he had left his indelible mark.

The boy would never make SOLDIER. He doubted that he still wanted to, after everything. The psychological evaluation ensured that he would never qualify.

He didn’t even recognize him, the moment the blade sinks into his midsection. The angle of the sword twisted. The pain was blinding, even as his flesh began to mend itself in response. Anger blossomed inside his chest from the shock.

Sephiroth fell to his knees. Cloud removed his helmet.

“Do you remember me?” Pain and bitterness laced the question.

Sephiroth had pretended not to see him. He behaved as if he had forgotten him. It was his way of telling the boy that he was nothing. But he had known he was there, curled into himself in the corner of the truck, refusing to take off his helmet even as he heaved himself sick. His body’s shudder had given him away.

He recalled how Cloud had cried and vomited afterwards, the smell lingering in his office.

To think, that same pathetic boy had managed to injure him.

Cloud turned to leave.

Mako and suspension fluid flowed out of Mother’s broken tank, soaking Sephiroth’s clothes. The head bore the same startlingly silver hair as his own. The flesh was frigid; It does not bleed when he separates it from the body. They would never be apart again.

Mother sang his name. Mother crooned that it was all theirs to claim.

He had always been a monster. That Nibelheim was Cloud’s hometown was a mere coincidence.

He would have destroyed any village.

Cloud knelt on the floor, holding the dark haired girl in his lap. He laid down her unconscious body carefully, turning towards him. The hilt of his blade was held tightly by white knuckles.

_“Why?”_

The question was like the whine of an insect to him. 

The rage in the blond boy’s eyes burned brightly as he charged forward. Without the element of surprise, Cloud wouldn’t overpower him again. His small body flew backwards, as flimsy as a paper doll, the heavy metal sword clattering noisily on the ground next to him. Sephiroth’s lips curled in disdain as he approached, his ribs still hurting.

_“Why me?”_

The question came out as a gasp, as Sephiroth skewered the thin tip of Masamune into Cloud’s chest. He aimed deliberately to miss the heart by a hair, prolonging the pain.

“Because it was easy,” Sephiroth replied. Cloud had made it so. He had worshipped Sephiroth, before.

He shoved the sword deeper.

“Because I could.”

He lifted the sword with the boy still impaled on it, grunting in pain. Blood spilled from his pale lips.

“Because you were too weak to stop me.”

The realization came too late. Cloud inched forward on the cold steel, even as it ran through his organs, enough to gain purchase on the ground. Suddenly, Sephiroth was the one hovering in the air. He had underestimated the boy. There was some hidden strength he had not calculated underneath the fragile form.

The truth was, Cloud could have been anyone. He wanted to destroy something, to watch it transform through his influence. He wanted to hollow out a person until it contained nothing but echoes of himself.

He watched his own creation, seething at him, fierce and beautiful.

A force of impossible intensity flung him to the walls of the reactor. His body drifted into the void.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Some thoughts on CSA
> 
> Though I don't consider myself a survivor, I have been subject to unwanted non-consensual touching.
> 
> "Why me?" was something that I wondered for a long time. Especially as a confused child.
> 
> I think the answer was that the opportunity simply existed. If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else.


End file.
